


Mommy and Daddy Are Fighting Again

by moboe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Destiel - Freeform, M/M, Strong Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-02
Updated: 2013-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-22 03:48:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/908532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moboe/pseuds/moboe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were fighting again. They were screaming at each other, and Sam was trying not to hold his pillow over his head to drown out the noise, but if it didn't stop soon, he was going to have to do just that—or resort to something worse; like getting involved. He was also desperately trying not to feel like a kid with two arguing parents, but that was getting exceedingly difficult.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mommy and Daddy Are Fighting Again

They were fighting again. They were screaming at each other, and Sam was trying not to hold his pillow over his head to drown out the noise, but if it didn't stop soon, he was going to have to do just that—or resort to something worse; like getting involved. He was also desperately trying not to feel like a kid with two arguing parents, but that was getting exceedingly difficult.

Sam didn't even know what they were arguing about; all he knew that they were throwing profanities at each other like it was going out of style, and that he was starting to worry that one of them might start throwing punches. They were yelling so loudly that the only words Sam could drag from their argument were things like 'fuck,' 'goddammit,' and their names.

The youngest Winchester was forming a headache. Worse than that, he had no idea what to do. He only hoped that the two in the living room of the bunker would resolve their issue before he drove himself insane.

*

“Fuck, Cas, _you can't do that,_ ” Dean yelled, exasperated.

_They had been on a hunt. The kind that could have been easily executed—if they'd stuck to the plan. If the witch hadn't been stronger than they had expected. Sam, two months after The Fall, was still too sick to come along._

“You don't get to make those decisions for me, Dean,” Cas yelled back, twice as loud.

_The witch—whose name was Katie McDonald—had had Dean in a choke hold against the wall, using nothing more than the pure witchcraft that was running through her veins. Cas was supposed to have been rounding through the back, getting in through the back door. He'd had a gun filled with silver bullets._

“When you want to make decisions about whether you live or die, I think I do!” Dean paused, just long enough for Cas to open his mouth, and then he yelled, “That was _suicide!_ ”

_Katie McDonald was obviously planning on killing Dean Winchester. She kept her eyes on him as she strode forward, explaining something very quietly. “Now, listen to me. I am about to cast a curse on you, but in order for it to be correctly cast, I need complete,” Katie pulled one of Dean's eyelids wider open, “eye contact. Capiche?” She paused, turning around. Dean found he couldn't blink. “So, I've just made you incapable of closing your eyes. You won't be able to focus on anything but me, either.”_

Cas huffed angrily, throwing his hands in the air. “You think I don't know that?” he roared. “I heard the incantations she was reciting. I know that curse! Do you have _any_ idea what the fuck it would have done to you?”

_She was looking down at a book now, reading through a page like she was scanning through a cookbook. Dean scoffed. She looked up after that, her eye twitching. When Dean tried to make a sound, he found himself unable. Katie glanced back down at the book, nodded once, and then returned her attention to Dean, executing the hex as if she had been practicing her entire life for this moment._

“You know what, Cas? _I really don't give a shit._ It damn near killed you! Do you have any idea—” Dean took a step closer to Cas. “Do you have _any idea_ what it would have done to me if you had _died?_ ”

_“Maledictus vir qui non potest mittere curavit. Per manum veneficae, quod, dum eum strangularet intercludat. Angelus in gratia curandi non mixtum sanguine erit qui salvet.” Dean couldn't see it—his eyes were still fixated on the blonde in the center of the room (he had no other choice), but Cas had come through the back door, and was padding lightly toward the witch._

Cas smiled—and the sight of it scared Dean. “I would assume your life would carry on as normal. I should not assume you would be very affected.” Dean's mouth opened, and he abruptly snapped it closed with a click.

_The fear in Castiel's eyes when he recognized the chant is something the fallen angel is very grateful Dean never got to see. “Numquid suffocat in sanguinem,” Katie carried on, not seeming to notice the wavering man only a few feet behind her, “et gratia tantum caecus vos!” With each of the five words, Castiel took a step forward, until he was in front of Dean, his eyes firmly locked with the witch's._

“You're full of shit,” Dean stated simply. “Cas, you are so full of it. I wouldn't be affected? Are you fucking kidding me? How many times do I have to say it before you finally understand, huh? _I. Need. You._ And if you're dead, I'm not going to need you any less!”

_Both Dean and Cas dropped to the floor with the last word, the handle on Dean cutting off, and Castiel suffocating. Dean looked up to Katie in murder glistening in his eyes. He swiftly got to his feet and stepped over Castiel, who was now curled over himself, coughing up blood. “What did you do to him?” he demanded._ “What did you do to him, dammit?! _” Katie was laughing. Dean was going to kill her. _Save Cas first,_ a voice in his head screamed at him, and he turned back to look at the ex-angel. “Tell me what you did to him or so help me God I will tear out each one of your organs and make you watch.”_

“You can't bullshit any better, either, Dean! I'm not doubting that you would be sad for a couple of weeks, but _everyone is when someone dies._ It's horrible, and then you get over it! You're only _human._ ” Cas scoffed, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “You can only mourn something insignificant for so long!”

_Katie sighed and put her hands on her hips. “Oh, might as well. There's nothing you can do about it, anyway. I've hexed him to choke on his own blood. There are blades in his lungs, currently.” She paused and looked at her nails, her expression positively gleeful. “The only thing that can save him is the blood of a Saved and an angel's Grace. No hex bag for this kind of magic. Good luck with that, dipshit.” Oh my god. Oh my god, did they actually have what they needed to save Cas? Could this just_ please _be one of the rare times where someone Dean loves lives?_

There was silence for a moment.

*

Sam almost exhaled in relief. But then it started again.

*

“Insignificant?” Dean was trying not to yell. “You—Cas, you are not insignificant! How in the hell can you think that? You are so goddamn far from insignificant, I just don't... I don't know how to show you.”

_Dean dropped to his knees beside Castiel, ripping through a few of the buttons of the flannel shirt he was wearing (Dean's) to reveal a small tube attached to a chain hanging on his neck. The last of Cas' Grace (which had to be extracted from the hand print on Dean's shoulder). Dean gripped the tube and ripped it from around Cas' neck, then taking a shard of glass off the floor and cutting down his arm with it. He wasn't sure what exactly he was supposed to be doing, so he just went with his gut instinct. For once, his gut was right._

__Castiel lived._ _

“You don't know how to show me because it's untrue, Dean. Can you please just accept the fact that you should not be angry with me about this?” Now Castiel's arms were spread wide, almost in a surrender. 

Dean laughed mirthlessly. “Not be mad? Are you kidding me? You tried to sacrifice yourself for me, which you should not have done, anyway, and then you get pissed off at me when I save you!” 

“You wasted the last of whatever I had that tied me to my home! I have _nothing now!_ ” 

Dean was silent for a moment, before murmuring, “I wouldn't say you have nothing.” He swallowed audibly, and then, stronger, “I would say you have a lot more than nothing.” Cas looked guilty, but Dean continued nonetheless. “You have me, and Sam, and you may not have the optimal home, but you have _this._ ” Dean gestured towards the bunker. “You have... you have _us._ As a family.” The hunter paused once more. “If you want it.” 

Cas drew his eyebrows together, wetting his lips. “I... of course I want it.” 

“I know it's not much, but—” 

“No, Dean—” 

“It obviously isn't, Cas, if you're willing to leave.” 

The fallen angel shook his head adamantly, his fists clenching once again. “No, Dean, I just didn't want to lose you. I... I suppose I would rather die saving you than have to live knowing I could've done something.” 

Dean swallowed again. “Okay.” And really, he couldn't argue any more. How could he? He would be a hypocrite. If Cas was in the same situation, and Dean had to make a split-second decision, the consequences would have likely been the same. 

Cas sighed. “Do you... do you understand now?" 

“Yes,” Dean struggled to say, drawing the word out for a few beats longer than it should have been. “But I still think it was a shitty thing to do. I understand why you did it, but that doesn't make me any more happy that it happened.” _Or satisfied with your opinion of your own self-worth,_ he added in his thoughts. 

Castiel took a step forward, and oddly, Dean was only just noticing the bags under his fallen angel's eyes. “You don't have to be happy about it,” Castiel retorted. “But it happened. It's over.” He took another step toward Dean. “Can we, maybe, stop fighting now?” 

Dean looked at the floor. “I guess so,” he mumbled. 

“Don't sound so disappointed, Dean.” 

“It's not every day I get to have a screaming match with you, Cas. Don't ever tell him this, but it's much more preferable to screaming matches with Sammy.” Dean looked up, now, a slow smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. 

Cas gave him a half-smile, which was better than the wounded puppy look he'd been giving Dean just a few moments earlier, and Dean took it in stride. 

Dean didn't realize he was staring at Cas until the fallen angel cleared his throat and murmured, “We should probably tell Sam it's safe to come out.” 

The hunter looked around Cas, down the hallway, towards Sam's room. His smirk grew into a half-grin. “Nah, let him wonder for a few hours. A little internal struggle's good for the guy.” 

Cas rolled his eyes. 

_*_

Sam was pretty sure that they had stopped fighting. Actually, he was pretty sure that they had stopped fighting a couple of hours ago, when he heard a sigh and, “Okay.” But who was going to judge him if he took his chances? 

He wanted to be certain. He wasn't about to go walk out to see them giving each other the silent treatment. That was almost worse than having to listen to them scream at each other. 


End file.
